


Let nothing you dismay

by middlemarch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Crossover, Desserts, F/M, Holidays, Romance, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: It had been a long shift and Mary wasn't expecting anything other than a lukewarm cup of tea that everyone would expect to restore her entirely. What she wouldn't give for a real cup of coffee. Or mead. Mead could work.
Relationships: Jedediah "Jed" Foster/Mary Phinney
Kudos: 4
Collections: Mercy Street Crossover Advent Silver and AU





	Let nothing you dismay

“There’s just so much…treacle,” Mary said, fiddling with her wand. Transfiguring food always seemed wasteful to her but the array of desserts put out by the St. Mungo’s house-elves leaned heavily, if not exclusively, towards treacle-based-soaked-dressed-drenched cakes and puddings, which she continued to call puddings even as the rest of the staff sneered or smirked at her American terms.

“What would you rather?” Jedediah asked. He was clearly growing out his beard in the preferred English style, but it still looked rather nice, without any straggliness; the grey streaks were particularly evocative of a certain aristocratic English wizard. He hadn’t exactly admitted to sharing her dismay at the sweets, but he had trained in France, where no one would have considered anything less than spelled patisserie as a suitable holiday spread.

“A Key lime pie is always nice,” Mary said. “A lemon souffle lends itself well to magic too—it doesn’t collapse once you’ve charmed it.”

“You prefer something tart,” he said. “I wonder at the lack of cranberries. Aren’t your people fond of wading through bogs for those?”

“You make us sound like cretins,” she said. “When you still haven’t found a way to make wi-fi and magic co-exist and your subtle knife-work for brain disorders is frankly woeful.”

“Point taken,” he said, swishing his wand around with a degree of polished grace she shouldn’t have found quite so attractive. There wasn’t any evidence he was a Legilimens, so she allowed the thought to bloom, be enjoyed, and fade, like a morning glory. “Will you try this?”

The stodgy treacle tart in its sturdy crust had been replaced by a gleaming slice of Key Lime pie, the pastry flaky, the scent sharp and sweet like an early spring morning. Mary did a little wandless magic, showing off if she were being honest, and took a bite. It was perfect.

“That’s lovely. What’s your favorite holiday sweet?” she said, knowing she was being provocative without the glamor of a graduate of Beaux-Batons or Acadia Sud.

“Suet mince pies,” he said quickly. 

“Did they put any out for you?” she asked.

“No, they’re not very popular,” he said. Mary closed her eyes, made her wand dance.

“Here you are,” she said, enjoying the look in his dark eyes more than any present. The pies were golden, richly scented with fruit and spice. “Happy Christmas, Jedediah.”

“Merry Christmas, Mary.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen."


End file.
